


Hard Day at Work

by fizzysplosion



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, Het, Het and Slash, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Humour, Slash, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-13
Updated: 2012-03-13
Packaged: 2017-11-01 22:00:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/361742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzysplosion/pseuds/fizzysplosion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Self-fill for my own request on the kink meme for Anders blueballing thanks to his sexy companions. No actual sex just a lot of ogling and Anders' naughty fantasies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard Day at Work

**Hard Day at Work**

"Anders, I'm dying."

Anders stuck his thumb in the middle of his book, _Death of A Templar_ , which was far less instructional than he'd been led to believe, and looked up at Hawke. Hawke was towering over him, both hands planted on the table in front of him and very much shirtless. Anders couldn't quite stop his eyes from skirting over his chest. Had there ever been a man with a more perfect body than Garrett Hawke? Each of his muscle groups were as perfectly defined as an anatomy study and he had a light dusting of ink black hair right between his pectoral muscles. That little patch of hair had been the subject of far too many fevered imaginings, what it would feel like against the flat of Anders' palm, against his bare cheek, his chest, his back...

Anders returned to his book.

"You look fine to me," he said. 

"Well, I'm not. Look," Hawke raised his arms overhead, so Anders' eyes couldn't help themselves but dance all the way down the shifting muscles, right down to where Hawke's breeches spoiled their fun.

"I don't see what the problem is."

"This!" Hawke indicated his side. The was a gleaming red patch of skin there from armpit to hip.

"Sunburn. You're dying of sunburn?"

"Well, no, but it got your attention, didn't it? And it stings like a bastard."

"It'll heal on its own."

"But it's getting in the way," Hawke pulled his breeches away from his skin. "The skin's so sore and tender I can barely keep my clothes on, it hurts whenever my thighs rub together-"

Anders lifted the book over his red face. "No!"

_Your friend is asking you for healing_ , Justice implored.

Unnecessary healing, Anders corrected.

_You heal non-lethal injuries often_.

Sunburn is about as dangerous as a skinned knee.

_Which you have healed before._

On children!

"Anders," Hawke whined.

"Fine. Sit down then."

Hawke sat gingerly on the edge of one of the beds. Hawke raised his arm again to give Anders access to the burn. He hissed as Anders brushed his fingertips over it. Anders clicked his tongue and tried to touch it again but Hawke inched away from him. Anders sighed and frosted his fingers before he tried again. This time Hawke caught his hand and held it to his side. Anders could feel the trapped heat even through the ice in his palm.

"Maker, that feels good," Hawke moaned.

"No it doesn't!" Anders sent a burst of healing magic through his palm, returning the skin to its normal colour.

"Mmm, that's better."

Anders pulled his hand away. He was sweating. His hands were clammy despite the ice. He stared at Hawke, willing him away so he could go and calm himself down in an ice cold bath. But Hawke didn't leave. He sat there, shifting on the bed as if he had worms in his trousers. Speaking of trousers, Hawke was wearing them a lot more loosely than he usually did. They all but gaped around his hips and the first couple of laces were undone. He flashed the dense lines of his pelvis and the thicker hair at the base of his cock as he moved. Anders stood transfixed, watching the loose ends of the laces as they danced like an Orlesian coquette. Hawke began to pluck at them, loosening his trousers even more.

"What the hell are you doing?" Anders shrieked.

"That wasn't the only place I got sunburned."

"Hawke! You can heal whatever's underneath your trousers yourself. I'm not touching any of your... trouser region."

"You know I'm no good at healing, Anders, and I'm suffering."

Between that and Justice's mutterings, Anders stood no chance. He chose to focus somewhere above Hawke's left shoulder as he undressed. When he dropped his gaze, Anders didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed that Hawke was wearing smalls. Not that they were much more than a courtesy at this point. The very heat that had caused Hawke's sunburn in the first place had lathered him with sweat, making the material so filmy it moulded itself to Hawke's shape. His _thick_ , _huge_ shape.

"Anders," Hawke whined.

Anders sternly reminded himself that Hawke was flushed and desperate for _healing_ and nothing else. The way he'd braced both hands on the bed and spread his legs open wantonly was only to give him access to the burns, not to display that impressive cock for Anders' leching. He had to remind himself again when he kneeled down in front of Hawke, so close that his nose almost touched it. 

Hawke's thigh muscles twitched as he fought to keep still. "Anders..."

"Be a man, Hawke."

Not that he really needed to. The evidence of his manhood was right in front of Anders' face. Anders gulped and looked up, so it wasn't right in his face, so close that his breath must be tickling it. As he did, few beads of sweat rolled down Hawke's clenching abdominal muscles and along his _powerful, muscular_ thighs.

Focus! Anders told himself.

He smoothed his palms over Hawke's inner thighs. The downy, almost invisible hairs there were whisper soft against his skin. Focus, focus. Anders sent healing magic forth through his fingertips. His face reddened at the sighing moan Hawke let out as the skin paled and righted itself. When it was done, Anders leapt onto his feet. He snatched Hawke's trousers and held them out for him, although he didn't deign to take them.

"You're a saint, Anders," Hawke said.

Anders brandished the trousers. "That's a very circumspect place to get sunburn, Hawke."

"Like I said, a saint to run this free clinic and never even ask any questions about why a man may sunbathe naked on the shore of the Wounded Coast just to feel the sun on his thighs, although he didn't intend to feel it quite as much as he actually did."

"Naked... Take the trousers, Hawke. Take them!"

Hawke took the trousers and, mercifully, slid his delectable lower body back into them. "Actually, there's a little bit more around my pelvis you could..."

Anders shoved Hawke out and closed the door behind him. He took a few deep breaths.

_You have become excited_ , Justice said, accusingly.

"Shhhhh."

Before he had even had a chance to become properly un-excited, there was another rap on the door. He sincerely hoped it wasn't Hawke and his pelvis back for more. He wasn't sure whether he was relieved or disappointed when it was Isabela who sauntered into the clinic.

"Isabela, what have I told you about picking people up at the docks?" Anders said.

"To try not to bump into Seneschal Bran while I do it?" Isabela said. "Anyway, I'm not here for that, you cheeky little minx."

"You don't seem injured."

"I'm not. The heat's been causing me some trouble."

"It's not sunburn, is it?"

Isabela laughed. "No, it's not sunburn. It's my breasts."

"Your... What?" Anders' eyes dropped to the aforementioned breasts. A thin ravine of sweat was trickling between them. When he jerked his head back up, he noticed a bead of it on her upper lip. An ideal position for capturing it between his own lips.

"My nipples, actually. They're all cracked and sore."

Anders swallowed. "I see. You're right about it being the heat. The sweat and the fabric rubbing against them will have caused the soreness," Anders turned around quickly and directed his gaze to one of his shelves. "I think I have a balm somewhere..."

"A balm? A balm?!"

"You were happy enough with a salve for the other problem."

"I can't walk around like this! I've my reputation to think of. The girls have quite the reputation of their own and it generally doesn't involve dry skin and cracking and an 'ow!' rather than an 'ooh!' when they're touched."

"You want me to heal them. Here? Now?"

"It's nothing you haven't seen before."

Technically true, Anders thought, although he'd never seen them with Justice simultaneously seeing them before. "Justice hasn't."

"Then he's in for a treat, isn't he?"

Isabela sat down on, by chance, the exact same bed Hawke had placed himself upon and loosened the ties of her dress.

Breasts. Breasts. Breasts. Anders tried to desensitise himself to the idea of them. It wasn't as if he didn't see those and a lot more besides on a regular basis, although they were usually heavy with milk as they supped a child and he wasn't yet desperate enough that he'd actively peep at a nursing mother. That or they were in the grip of some terrible disease or so ingrained with dirt that they were barely visible at all. 

They were certainly nothing like Isabela's, which were firm and round and perfect and right there in front of him...

Anders cleared his throat and tried to keep his voice level and professional. "I'm going to need to touch them-you-the area. Is that all right?"

"As long as it gets rid of this mess, you can plant your face in them for all I care."

Anders made a small noise in the back of his throat. Why had he invited her to talk? Now not only did he have that mental image to contend with, he also had the non-mental image of Isabela's bare breasts vibrating slightly as she talked.

"You're going to have to look at them properly sooner or later," Isabela said. "'Might as well get it over with."

Anders hoped the gulp he let out wasn't as audible as it felt. He cooled his hands with frost first, more soothing than heat in this stifling weather, and forced himself to look at the problem. Her nipples did look sore. He had to give her credit for being braver about it than Hawke was with his sunburn. Unfortunately, sore also meant sensitive. Her nipples were already half-hard before he touched them. He had a distinct and uncomfortable memory of how he'd brought them to hardness once before, with a pinch of electricity and a soothing tongue. She made an appreciative noise as he placed the flat of his cool palms against her burning skin. He tried not to hear it, or feel the way her nipples hardened even further at the touch. He tried not to think about the expanse of soft, fragrant skin he was cupping.

Focus. Focus.

He sent only the lightest amount of healing magic out through his palms, sinking little tendrils into the delicate skin where it was needed.

"Mm," she said. "Much better."

Anders yanked his hands away and bustled over to his shelf. He took a length of clean, cotton bandage and thrust it into her hand. "Here," he said. "Wrap that around them for support. That should stop it happening again." _And put some clothes on, woman!_

She proceeded to take his advice. Watching her breasts being pushed and bound as she wound tight, tight bandages over them was all too much for him. He spun away and tried not to gibber hysterically to himself as Justice admonished him for getting 'excited' by healing again. Which of course gave her the opportunity to stealth across the room and give him an avuncular pat on the rump, which nearly made him jump high enough to put his head through the patchy ceiling. 

She slipped a coin into his hand with roguish grace, which Anders fumbled and dropped with Anders-ish grace. 

"You don't need to pay, Isabela," he managed.

"Take it. For services rendered," Isabela said, with a wink.

Anders watched her leave. Maker's breath, what a day.

As he was about to call an end to it by putting out the lantern by the door, he had another arrival on his doorstep. A spiky, scowling arrival.

"Fenris."

"Mage."

"Don't tell me. You have a groin injury you desperately want me to treat?"

" _What_?"

"No groinal injury then? I take it you're not here for tea and a chat."

"I... Require your assistance."

"What was that? I thought I heard you say you needed assistance from a _mage_ but that can't be right, can it? Because you'd never stoop so low as to be assisted by a mage. A magical magey mage."

Fenris crossed his arms. He clenched his hands around his forearms as if making sure they didn't lash out at Anders of their own accord. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, giant sword wobbling and making a steady 'clap clap clap' against his armoured back.

"I am in need of healing."

" _Magical_ healing?"

Fenris glared. Anders did his best to make himself as big and obtrusive in the doorway as possible while he gave only a placid smile back. It was a favoured technique and one that seemed to rile Fenris far more than a glare of his own.

Fenris relented first. "The matter is becoming urgent," he said.

"Urgent, is it?" Anders made a show of inspecting the blood and dirt under his nails. 

"Mage. Please."

"Well, if you're going to _beg_."

"I am not-! I am not begging. I am requesting."

"So what you're saying is you don't want healed?"

Fenris made an ugly noise in the back of his throat. "If you wish to believe you heard begging, you may do so."

"I suppose that'll have to do."

Anders stepped aside. Fenris had a furtive little look around before entering. Hm. Perhaps he was in need of the special salve.

Fenris stood in the centre of the room, arms still clutched around himself, and glared at the open door behind Anders as if he could shut it by telekinesis. Anders gave an exaggerated sigh and went outside to extinguish the lantern, before barring the door. Fenris continued to glare at him as if he hadn't just done his best to ensure his privacy.

"Well?" Anders said.

"What transpires here is not to be recounted to anyone."

Anders rolled his eyes. "Have you ever heard me disclose anything personal about any of my patients? That's what you are in this room, just an ordinary patient. Now can we please get on with it so I can sleep before the nighttime rush?"

"Very well."

Fenris strode over to one of the beds and began undoing the catches of his armour. Anders averted his eyes as the finely-hewn musculature of his back was revealed and only turned back when an impatient cough drew his attention. Anders' tried and failed to stop his brain running a nonstop commentary on the differences between elves and humans, narrower backs and longer necks, even if Fenris' still looked broad and strong enough for his build. The lack of even fine hair gave the skin a far different texture to a human man's... Not that he was thinking about touching Fenris any more than necessary. He liked his fingers attached to his hands. Fenris remained facing away from him, posture stiff even with his hands hung by his sides. His fists were clenched.

There was a livid cut starting in the small of his back, that disappeared beneath his leggings.

Anders stepped close enough to examine the wound. It looked bad enough that he expected to be knocked back by the pungent smell of infection but instead there was a sharper, medicinal smell.

"Andraste's tits, Fenris," Anders said. "How long have you had this?"

"Two or three weeks."

Anders hissed between his teeth. "Why didn't you come to me sooner?"

"I believed I could treat it myself. Isabela gave me a salve for infections..."

Anders smacked his hand into his forehead. "I think there might have been some miscommunication there. All right, I need to see the full extent of the damage."

"Is that truly necessary?"

"I'm afraid so."

Fenris hesitated, then began to peel his leggings from his lower body. _No smalls_ , a small, hysterical part of Anders' mind noticed, as Fenris became naked Fenris. Naked Fenris was an entirely different beast to the regular, spiky-armour-encased Fenris. Naked Fenris, for one thing, was naked. For another, he wasn't glaring. Rather, he was angling his head away from Anders, trying not to look at him and slanting his body slightly so that only the back of it was exposed.

"If you could just lie face-down on the bed," Anders said, in a voice a mite higher than usual.

Fenris complied with only a grunt of irritation. Anders hovered his hands above him and tried not to think about all that silken elfin skin over hard, densely packed muscle. Fenris' whole body was tensed, knees still a little bent and one hand clenched tight into the thin mattress. He hadn't deigned to remove his gauntlets, so the spikes punched holes into the bedding. 

"Mage," Fenris said, the gruffness muffled somewhat by the bedding.

"Right, yes."

Anders directed his damned willful eyes back along the wound. It continued from his lower back, right along his buttocks and down his thigh all the way to the knee. Where whatever had made the cut had met the lyrium markings it had only succeeded in scratching a hair-thin line, which meant what initially had looked like one long cut was actually several broken ones, each in need of separate treatment.

Anders started on the more cosmetic ones first. Those were concentrated on the lower part of the wound. The shallower cuts were easily fixed with just a touch of his fingertip, no more of a bother than Hawke's sunburn or Isabela's sore...areas. Fenris twitched a little at his light touches. Anders wondered if he'd found a ticklish spot in that sensitive area just behind the knee. He decided not to push it, attached to his heart as he was, and finished up that area quickly before moving upward. He felt the flex of Fenris' thigh muscle as he tensed at the feel of fingers on a part of the wound that was a fraction deeper, then the relax as he healed it.

Anders retracted his hand while he considered how to deal with the worst of it. The blade had obviously caught him on the roundest part of his buttock, for that was where the cuts were widest and deepest, but there was the infection to think of as well. The salve would have helped somewhat, despite not being fit for purpose, but with only that it was likely as angry as it looked. Which meant it would likely take a lot of touching.

Anders concentrated on the deep cut above the waistline first. He drew out the infection and neutralised it, using one of the applied healing spells that had come so handy so often since he arrived in Kirkwall. It made the wound reopen and bleed so he set to healing that as well, leaving smooth skin and dented lyrium behind.

That only left the final, worst wound.

Anders touched his fingertips, already loaded with healing magic, to the wound. They must have brushed one of the lyrium markings because Fenris glowed bright and a jolt of movement when through him. When he'd dimmed, he had shifted position and Anders' almost passed out at the sight that confronted him. Fenris had slumped, huffing loud breaths into the mattress, with his legs slightly apart. Anders could see his entrance between his parted buttocks and the curve of his balls underneath. He was spread in submission like this was a much more intimate act than healing. Anders gaped for a moment before coming to his senses enough to look away while Fenris caught his breath and rearranged himself.

When it was safe to look, Anders healed that one last wound. It was stubborn, the infection rooted deep and the bleeding profuse when he'd cleaned it up, but simple enough. Anders made short work of it. And he certainly didn't take a quick look at naked Fenris in all his naked glory now that a horrible injury wasn't obscuring his view. Certainly not.

"Does that feel better?" Anders asked.

"Much."

Anders went into the back room, to wash his hands and give Fenris some privacy while he dressed. When he returned Fenris was properly encased in spikes. All was as it should be. Except for Justice grumbling again about how healing shouldn't excite him.

"There are few healers in Tevinter," Fenris said.

"Oh?" Anders said, because it was better than 'For the love of the Maker, get out!'

"Those that are there are lauded beyond even the richest magister and given whatever they desire."

Just what Anders' trousers needed. Fenris saying _whatever they desire_ with that stupid, sexy voice of his.

"Is that a compliment or an accusation?" Anders asked.

"It is a statement."

That seemed to be all Fenris had to say on the matter because he hefted his broadsword onto his back and left. 

Anders scurried over to the door to close and bar it after him. He leaned against it heavily and began plucking at the ties of his coat. His feverish fingers slipped on the buckles in his eagerness. When he finally loosened them, he moaned just at the touch of the stale Darktown air on the sliver of bare chest it revealed. He bit his lip and shoved the heavy coat off his shoulders. It barely slid, clinging and sticking to his sweaty skin until he shoved it roughly to the floor. The pauldrons remained on his shoulders, lopsided, feathers tickling the side of his neck where the collar had bent inward. He bit his lower lip as he trailed one hand down his stomach, all lean abdominal muscles and fair downy hair. His cock twitched even though it was his own touch, his own fingers tracing dry lines on his damp skin as he guided them down toward his pelvis and pushed it up to meet them. Anders drew them back up toward his navel and used the other hand to palm his erection through his trousers.

_What are you doing?_ Justice shrieked.

Anders groaned. "Nothing you need to peep on. Please... I need this..."

_Cease this!_

Anders grunted at the effort of forming a cogent argument while all he wanted to do was come right this instant. "I can't concentrate on anything while I'm hard as rock, Justice. No manifestos, no messages from the underground and especially no healing small children and elderly ladies. Now, I know what you're thinking, you'll just take over my body and do it for me but what you haven't considered is that you'll be in my body while it's erect with all the messy human urges that come with it."

Justice was silent.

Anders squeezed his erection again just to check that there were no more objections from the Fade. There weren't, so he toed off his boots and walked barefoot to the nearest cot. A cot that smelled like Hawke's sweat and Isabela's perfume, mixed together as if the two of them had used the cot for vigorous sex with each other, all perfect bodies and expert tongues.

Anders lay back on the cot with another deep inhalation. He fancied he could smell Fenris there too. The hint of copper that always seem to linger in the air around him and the more tangible note of cheap, acerbic soap. He gave thought to just rolling around in the wonderful-smelling sheets for a while like a cat in catnip and imagining all the while he was brushing against the skin of his unfairly attractive companions but there was a flicker of alien annoyance that reminded him that while Justice was quiet, he still disapproved of these baffling human urges.

Anders pushed down his trousers. He kicked out when they frustrated his movement by tangling around his ankles and, finally, kicked them off. His cock rested heavily against his stomach, radiating a different sort of heat to the sticky Darktown air. Anders drew his knees up, sinking his heels and toes into the mattress so it swallowed the arch of his foot. He wrapped one hand around the base of his cock and gave a slow, lazy stroke. He moaned through his teeth, releasing a desperate breath, and dug his heels harder into the mattress. The other hand he brought into his hair and fisted it tight enough that he could feel the pull of it on his scalp.

He imagined it was Hawke's hand. Hawke sitting in front of him as he had earlier but without even the barely-there smalls that had done such a poor job of covering him. Anders licked his lips while imagining doing the same. Hawke would pull up his head, with a wrench on his hair that made his eyes water, and make him look into that cocksure, wicked smile he always wore. Anders would close his eyes and open his mouth, silently begging for what he needed. Then Hawke would grow gentler. He'd pull him forward and push his cock into Anders' mouth. Anders fisted his cock and sped up his strokes as he imagined the taste, the smell of Hawke's warm skin, the feel of his huge hand held steady in his hair. Anders loosened the fingers in his hair and pushed two into his mouth. He closed his lips around them as if they were really Hawke's cock, tasting of salt and skin and not potions and elfroot. He would take too much at first. He always did. Greedy for all of the taste and length of his lover, the feel of them against the back of his throat. He'd take too much and he'd choke. Hawke would force his head back until he relaxed and then he'd drive back in, with Anders moaning around him, until he could take him into his throat and swallow hard around him.

Anders let his fingers fall from his mouth. He crooked them in the air, imagining Isabela sitting atop them, on her knees with her legs spread wide, strong thigh muscles at work to keep herself upright while he pleasured her. He would use a grease spell, only the barest touch on his thumb, to rub and roll over her clit while two fingers worked inside her until she came so hard the grease mixed with her own slick.

Anders stroked himself harder, imagining the noises he'd pull from her as he continued twitch his fingers inside of her and draw orgasm after orgasm out of her sensitised body. He imagined the ends of her hair, wet tendrils stuck to her shoulders and her breasts. He imagined Isabela clawing for the upper hand, seizing his shoulders and kissing him hard, then riding him with demanding cants of her hips.

He tightened his fingers around the base of his cock and turned his other hand over to seize the mattress in his fist. Heat was pooling in his belly. It wouldn't be long now.

He imagined Fenris, naked and face-down on this very mattress. He imagined grabbing the back of his head and pushing it down hard enough for him to feel the slats underneath against his face. He imagined driving into him and the clamping tightness of that narrow, elfin body, as it spasmed and moaned underneath him in reluctant pleasure. He imagined Fenris pushing back against him with all that warrior's strength and Anders seizing his hips to slam back into him. 

Anders panted, back arching as he struggled to maintain the fantasy. He allowed himself a few more glancing images, Isabela spread underneath him as he gave her the best head she'd ever had, Hawke driving deep into his arse while Fenris pressed into his mouth, Fenris on his knees glaring up at him but still hard while he teased him for enjoying sucking the cock of a mage, Hawke and Fenris fucking for him, Isabela lowering herself onto his face and then they all sputtered out into a few white sparks as he came. He felt it streak across his stomach and fought down the urge to taste it, pretending in the last few instants that it was Hawke's. 

_Must you do these things?_ Justice demanded, positively ruining Anders' afterglow.

"I've held off for years!"

Justice was silent for a while, then _Aren't you going to bathe?_

"Maker's breath, can't it wait a few minutes?"

_We share the sensations experienced by this body._

Anders gave another sigh but there was no real feeling behind it. "If I promise to clean up right away, can I do this again?"

_Again? How often?_

"Oh, never mind, let's just wait until it dries. Then I can _scrape_ it off tomorrow morning."

Justice gave the Fade spirit equivalent of a shudder. _I accept your terms._

Anders hopped off the bed and practically skipped toward the water pump. Justice might turn out to be a tolerable companion yet.

**The End**


End file.
